


Stocking fillers

by tawg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_gabriel, Multi, Stocking fillers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short gift-fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There are some things they need to work through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things they need to work through. Coda to 'Changing Channels'. Castiel and Gabriel. Gen.

“You’re a poor excuse for an angel,” Castiel said, and Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh at the stern, disappointed look on Castiel’s face.

“That’s true,” he admitted

“You are a coward,” Castiel continued. “A liar, a deserter. You are needlessly cruel.”

Gabriel held out his hands to one side, in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. He was still soaked through from his time under the sprinkler system, and smelled too strongly of holy fire for his own tastes. But Castiel had been waiting for him outside the warehouse with a furious sulk on his face.

“I _mourned_ you,” Castiel said accusingly. His voice was bordering on petulant; he’d been around humans for too long, had fallen a long way from the angel Gabriel had known.

“I missed you, too,” Gabriel replied. Castiel glared at him, a storm of confused anger raging inside him. But when Gabriel touched his shoulders, Castiel slumped against him. They wrapped their arms around one another, a firm hug that bordered on desperate.

Angels were never designed to be alone. 

“We’ll be okay,” Gabriel murmured to his brother. He had been the angel of revelation, once. Maybe the words would come true.


	2. Sam invites Gabriel over for Christmas.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam invites Gabriel over for Christmas. Gabriel brings his kids. Fluffy slash. Sam/Gabriel.

Sam had invited Gabriel to spend Christmas with the family. He figured that, with the apocalypse over and everything being mostly-right with the world, it was high time Dean manned up and accepted that Gabriel and Sam were an item. He also figured it was time that Bobby met Gabriel without a chainsaw wielding maniac distracting him. 

He hadn’t figured that Gabriel would bring the extended family.

He hadn’t figured on Gabriel bringing his _kids_. He’d suspected they were out there. Loki had a few in the Norse mythology, and Castiel had confirmed after an incredibly awkward conversation that angels _could_ reproduce sexually (though he’d given the impression that such a thing was absolutely disgusting, which had Sam wondering what it was exactly that his brother and angel got up to when they went out parking).

“Sachiel, you put that tree down _right now_. Tabilis, _don’t make me come over there_.”

“They’re great kids,” Sam said over the noise of something exploding in another room. “Really.”

Gabriel looked up at him with a grin. “Have I scared you off yet?”

“Nope,” Sam said, wrapping an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. “Not even close.”

“Great,” Gabriel replied, returning his attention to the carnage unfolding before them. He waited until Sam was taking a sip of eggnog before adding, “Because one of these is half-yours.”


	3. Sam asks to see some wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam asks to see some wings. Gabriel obliges, in his way. Sexy wingfic. Sam/Gabriel.

“You are the worst boyfriend ever,” Sam said grouchily. Fingers were carding through feathers, toying with the small, fluffy ones where the shoulder of a wing met the warm skin of a back.

“I’m definitely in the running for the title,” Gabriel agreed. He stretched his arms out, wiggling his fingers, and a pair of white, fluffy wings stretched and flexed.

“This really isn’t what I meant when I wanted to see some wings,” Sam continued, though his sour mood was abating slightly. It did feel good, the smoothness of feathers being petted by strong hands.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Gabriel replied idly. He shifted his shoulders, wriggling his hips and the white wings stretched in response. “You asked for wings, you got wings.”

“I meant that I wanted to see _your_ wings,” Sam huffed, and the gigantic wings attached to his shoulders hunched together in an expression of distaste.

“Oh,” Gabriel said, “I see. You should have been more specific.” He wriggled down, so he was straddling the back of the Sam’s thighs, and started mouthing at the sensitive skin where human body and fluffy wings intersected.

Gabriel was a pretty awful boyfriend. But, Sam was forced to admit as Gabriel did some very interesting things to Sam’s back and wings, he was certainly skilled at making the best of a bad situation.


	4. Sam isn't sure where he fits in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam isn't sure where he fits in. Balthazar/Castiel, Balthazar/Castiel/Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of princess_aleera's fic [Burn (with a wave of my hand)](http://princess-aleera.livejournal.com/134922.html). What you need to know: Castiel and Balthazar are in a long-term relationship. Sam might be in there with them.

“What are my two pets getting up to?” Balthazar asked as he walked through the kitchen, dropping his bag on the kitchen table. At a pointed look from Cas, he picked it up and tossed it through the doorway of the room he shared with Castiel.

“Cas is teaching me how to make cinnamon cookies,” Sam explained.

Sam had enjoyed spending the day with Castiel – packing boxes, cleaning the apartment that Sam had shared with Dean for nearly a decade. They’d all be moving into a large house soon, and while Sam was looking forward to the extra space, he was a little worried. He’d be moving in with two couples – Cas and Balthazar, Dean and Gabriel – and he was pretty certain he’d be spending a lot of time cooped up in his room, alone.

“Cassie is unparalleled in biscuitry arts,” Balthazar said proudly. He pulled one of Castiel’s hands away from rolling the cinnamon cookie dough into balls, and sucked on one of Castiel’s fingertips. “Mmm,” he said around Castiel’s finger. He pulled away slowly, giving it a final lick. “That does taste good.”

Sam felt his face flush, and made a point of looking down at the bowl of cookie dough he was kneading with both hands.

“Really?” Castiel asked, his usually rough voice a little lower and warmer than usual, making Sam’s mouth dry. “Let me try.” Sam jumped when Cas touched Sam’s wrist, gently pulling his hand away from the mixing bowl. He studied Sam’s palm intently before dipping his head, pressing his lips to the base of Sam’s thumb. Sam could feel the gentle exhale of breath before Castiel parted his lips and started licking and sucking the dough away, dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark, and he had small granules of brown sugar stuck to his top lip.

“It does taste good,” he said, and his voice sounded as wrecked as Sam felt. Sam’s gaze flicked to Balthazar, Castiel’s _boyfriend_ , who was kissing his way up Castiel’s wrist. He looked up at Sam, and gave him an easy, amused look.

Well. Maybe Sam wouldn’t be left on his lonesome after all.


	5. Dying can be hard to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fix-it fic for Bobby in season 7. Dying can be hard to do. Bobby and Crowley.

Bobby was dying. He knew the feeling, he’d been close to death so many times before. At first, he’d wished that he knew more about Heaven, what it took to get in. Sam and Dean had given the experience a thumbs down, but Bobby was willing to bet that it would be a lot more fun than Hell. Bobby knew too many people down there, too many cruel faces he’d rather not see again. But then he’d begun slipping, that slow, tired stretch. Leaving his body behind. He felt light, like there was no real substance to him. He felt like maybe this was something that was meant to happen, that it would be okay.

And then there was a _snap_ of elastic tugging him back, pulling him down. The vertigo of moving too far too fast. The pain of a broken body and scrambled brains, of _life_.

When Bobby could open his eyes again, his gaze instantly moved to the foot of a bed. There was a man dressed in impeccable black, smirking down at him.

“Now, now,” Crowley chided. “You may have gotten out of your contract, you may have your soul to do with as you please.” Here the demon paused, a smiled. “But you? You still belong to me.”

Bobby tried to huff out a breath, an action that was complicated by the tubes going up his nose. All in all, Bobby thought, maybe it was a case of ‘better the devil you know’. “Get a shave, you hippy,” he said.

Crowley gave Bobby a sharp, amused look. “Missed you too, darling.”


	6. A Winchester and an angel - a different take on Season 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Winchester and an angel - Sam and Gabriel take on the leading roles of season four.

The Trickster slammed into the brick wall with a satisfying thud. Sam couldn’t help smiling, though he knew it was a cruel, crooked grin.

“I think someone spiked you Kool-aid, kid,” the Trickster said, shaking his head as if to clear it. Sam sent a wave of energy into him, and the Trickster slammed into the wall again, cracking the bricks.

“I came looking for you,” Sam said slowly, “because Dean is in hell.”

“That brother of yours isn’t very good at staying alive, is he?” the Trickster asked with a grin on his face. Sam pictured ribs snapping, organs twisting together, and the Trickster fell to his knees, gasping in pain.

“So not only are you going to bring Dean back,” Sam said carefully, crouching down in front of the Trickster, “you’re also going to pull Ruby back from where ever you sent her.”

The Trickster raised his head, and grinned at Sam. “No can do, kiddo,” he said. “I’m following a different set of orders.”

Sam fisted his hand in the Trickster’s hair, and snarled into his face, feeling his eyes go black. “ _Whose_ orders?” he demanded.

The Trickster smiled up at him. “They come right from the top,” he said. Then he placed both hands on the sides of Sam’s face, and sucked all of the energy right out of him, all of the power from Ruby’s blood and then some. When he released Sam, the Trickster was fully healed and Sam fell backwards onto his ass.

“I didn’t think Trickster’s took orders,” Sam said, his voice sounding thin and weak.

“I’m not a very good Trickster,” came the reply. Then the Trickster raised himself off his knees and stood as tall and his small frame would allow. A gust of wind tossed litter through the alley, tossed Sam’s hair into his face and when he pushed it back dark shapes were unfolding across the wall behind the Trickster, shadows of something awesome and holy. “But I’m an even worse angel,” the Trickster concluded. “Sam Winchester, I am the archangel Gabriel, and I am here to carry your soul and raise you from this path to perdition.”

Sam gaped at the figure in front of him. “... You have got to be kidding.”

“Not this time, Sasquatch,” Gabriel replied. “Come on,” he said, hauling Sam to his feet. “We’ve got work to do.”


	7. Tokens of affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is being nice to Gabriel. He doesn't like it one bit. Unrequited Gabriel/Lucifer, love-potion-at-work Castiel/Dean.

The first time Gabriel turned up after having revealed himself, he was leaning against the Impala and glaring at Castiel. “Have you been talking to Heaven?” he asked, poking the other angel in the chest.

“No,” Castiel replied. Gabriel gave Castiel one last, dirty look, and then snapped himself away.

*

The second time Gabriel turned up in all of his angelic glory, his was holding what looked suspiciously like a plate of rum balls. “Try one of these for me, would you?” he asked Castiel as the angel was sent flying through the air.

“We’re a little busy right now,” Dean snapped. “Vampire horde and all that. Leave a message and we’ll get back to you.”

Gabriel perched on the edge of an upturned tabled and frowned at his plate of desserts. “Well, how long is that going to take?” he asked.

“Maybe you could-” Sam ducked to avoid a particularly lethal blade whizzing through the air, “-give us a little help?”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose at the idea, and watched idly as Dean was thrown through a window. “Well,” he said at last. “If you _promise_ to try one of these,” he said.

“We promise!” Sam yelled, yanking Castiel away from an enthusiastic set of fangs. Gabriel snapped his fingers, and there were some very wet, very red explosions. Castiel shook himself off, like a dog, and Sam cringed at the extra layer of vampire goop that landed on his clothes. Gabriel, who was completely free of any exploded bits, shoved a plate under Castiel’s nose. Sam wiped his fingers off on Gabriel’s jacket, and took a rum ball.

“Oh wow,” he said. “These are amazing.” Castiel followed his cue, and when Dean stumbled inside he was just concussed enough to join them. “Did you make these?” Sam asked.

“No,” Gabriel replied. “They were left on my doorstep. I think someone’s trying to poison me.”

Sam and Dean both turned to one side and spat out the half-chewed rum balls, but Castiel had already swallowed two and was reaching for a third. Dean batted Castiel’s hand away, and Castiel turned to the human in frustration. Then he stopped, and stared at Dean for a long moment. His gaze was getting into eye-fucking territory, and Sam shifted uneasily.

“Yup,” Gabriel said as Castiel reached out towards Dean’s face and Dean slapped the hand away. “That’s one angelic love potion right there.” He tossed the rum balls over one shoulder. “Well, thanks for the help,” he said before disappearing.

“Wait!” Dean yelled as Castiel advanced on him. “Gabriel? Gabriel, get back here!”

*

“You must have spoken to _someone_ ,” Gabriel said when Team Free Will stumbled into their motel room. It had been three weeks since the rum balls, and Castiel was down to petting Dean’s hair while he slept.

“Cas hasn’t been speaking to anyone,” Sam replied, pushing Dean towards the shower before he launched himself at the archangel. “Cas doesn’t _know_ anyone outside of Heaven, and he’s really not their favourite person right now.”

“What about you, then?” Gabriel asked. “You been talking to any angels?”

“No!”

“None aside from Lucifer,” Castiel corrected. “He has been visiting Sam’s dreams.”

Gabriel scowled at Sam. “Great, of all the people you had to go chatting to me about...”

“I didn’t!” Sam protested. “He’s hardly been around since you showed your true self, anyway.”

Castiel considered this as he stared forlornly at the closed bathroom door. “That would suggest he is otherwise occupied.”

“This is getting really, freaking weird!” Gabriel wailed. “I’m getting candy, flowers, baked goods. A freaking stack of DVDs turned up yesterday! Most of them starred Sandra Bullock!”

Sam snickered. “Sounds like he’s flirting with you,” he said.

Gabriel stared at Sam like he were speaking another language. “What?”

“Well, the presents, romantic movies, flowers, a love potion... I think someone is trying to get your attention.”

Gabriel’s lip curled in distaste. “I tell you, it’s not how we did it back in the old days. A few sacrifices, then you turn into a bull in a field and have at it.”

Castiel muttered something that sounded like “Filthy pagan,” and Gabriel ignored him.

“So what do I do?” Gabriel asked, looking at Sam with wide, brown eyes.

Sam opened his mouth, and then closed it again. It would help his cause if Lucifer continued to be distracted in his courtship of Gabriel, but if Gabriel and Lucifer teamed up then there would be four archangels out to make the apocalypse happen instead of just three. 

“Do you know anything about human courtship?” Sam asked. Gabriel shook his head. “Right, well, you should get out of town for a few days to think it over. Go and stay with one of your exes. And have sex with them, lots of sex. And flirt with, like, everyone. It’ll send the message that you’re not yet won over. And you should burn some of his gifts, you know, make it sacrificial and stuff. That says you’re taking his advances seriously. Oh, and if he tries to talk to you? Run away. Make him chase you and stuff. You don’t want him to think you’re a push over, right?”

“Right!” Gabriel said with a nod. “Okay, got it. Thanks for your help, kiddo,” he said, slapping Sam on the arm before snapping himself away.

Once they were alone, Castiel gave Sam a very long, considering look. “I don’t think that was very good advice,” he said at last.

Sam shrugged. “He’ll figure it out.”


	8. They're not friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not friends, but she might be his favourite. Trickster (Gabriel) and Jo.

Jo stared out at the ocean, the sun warm at her back. There was blood under her nails, and she fully intended to strip off and scrub herself down in the salt water, but for the moment her body was heavy, and she was content to sit quietly and watch the waves.

“Hey, kittyhawk,” a warm voice said.

“Why don’t you ever stay dead?” Jo grumbled. She didn’t have the energy yet to turn and glare at the Trickster.

“Maybe I think you need more practice killing things,” the Trickster replied, sinking down onto the sand beside her. “You should thank me for being so obliging.”

Jo made a face, and the thing beside her chucked, radiating happiness. “Where are you from, anyway?” Jo asked. She was always allowed to ask a few questions after a hunt, but never during. “Just about every culture has a trickster god.”

The Trickster had conjured up a stack of hot, golden fries and was tossing them one by one to the seagulls. “I’m not really from anywhere,” he replied. “I like travelling.”

“I always thought gods were tied to their worshippers.”

The Trickster shrugged. “There are people all over the globe who send prayers to me.”

Jo finally turned her head and examined the Trickster. His shirt still had blood on the front where she had staked him, and his face was quiet and calm as he watched the ocean. He glanced over at her, and his eyes were warm and deceptively kind. “I’ve never met anyone who prays to a Trickster,” she said at last, turning away.

She felt the god beside her shrug. “People pray to dumber things,” he replied, and there was a note of self-deprecation in his voice that she didn’t quite understand. Jo’s stomach growled, and the Trickster wordlessly offered her the newspaper-wrapped fries.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a whole heap of lore advising young girls from accepting food from the gods,” Jo said. “I’m not ready to be dragged down to the underworld just yet.”

The Trickster glanced over at her, and then back out to the ocean. “There’s some places even I won’t travel through,” he said. “And if I were going to kill you, I would have done it by now.”

Jo sighed, and accepted a handful of greasy wonderful fried potato. “Why don’t you kill me?” she asked. “It can’t be in your best interests, getting hunted down every few months.”

The Trickster reached over and ruffled her hair. “Because, kittyhawk, out of all the hunters to come after me, you’ve been the most fun.”

Jo snorted. “That’s not exactly comforting,” she said.

“Good,” the Trickster replied. “I don’t want people thinking I’m getting soft.”


	9. Some solstice porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin. Gabriel/Sam.

Sam was on his knees in the snow, his wrists bound behind his back. He was cold, and aching, and the raw heat of the angel at his back only reinforced his discomfort rather than relieving it.

“Gabriel,” Sam whined. His skin was pricking with goosebumps, and his toes were going numb. The hot kisses that Gabriel was mouthing against the back of Sam’s shoulders were hot points of fire until the angel moved on, and the saliva he left behind chilled and froze against Sam’s skin. 

“I thought you wanted to celebrate the solstice with me,” Gabriel murmured into Sam’s ear, pausing to bite at the shell of his ear. Sam whined again. It was a misrepresentation of the situation, given that Gabriel had invited Sam and Sam had thoughtlessly said “Sure” before finding out just what, exactly, Gabriel had in mind.

“Back when I was hanging out with the Aztecs,” Gabriel said, running his hands over Sam’s skin, “I had a human sacrifice every year.” He mouthed again at the small bump at the top of Sam’s spine, his hands travelling down to rest on Sam’s hips, his thumbs drawing circles against the small of Sam’s back. “They used to raise slave children for it, which I didn’t mind.” He moved on hand to palm Sam’s ass. “I like the underdog.”

Sam shivered, the muscles in his legs clenching and unclenching in an effort to keep warm. Then Gabriel pressed a hand between Sam’s legs, cupping his balls before sliding back, pressing against his entrance. “They were my vessels,” Gabriel said, sliding a finger into that hot, tight heat, “and I had a new one to wear every year.” Sam shuddered, a confused mix of scared, and cold, and painfully aroused. “They’d kill the old one, of course,” Gabriel said as he stretched Sam out, as he filled him up with a heavy, demanding heat. “Back then, being exceedingly tall was considered a defect,” he continued conversationally, as he slid his fingers from Sam’s body.

A hot hand was placed at the back of Sam’s neck, pushing him forwards until his face was inches above the snow, the dark coldness of the forest sinking into his skin and making him shiver. Gabriel ran his hands down the long lines of Sam’s back, digging his fingernails into the lines of Sam’s hips as he aligned his cock with Sam’s entrance.

“In retrospect, it was quite wasteful,” he said as he pressed against Sam, as he pushed into that small space and filled Sam with heat and awe. “Humans didn’t have a lot of value, you know? And it was easy to make more.” Sam didn’t care. With Gabriel moving in side him, Sam didn’t care about anything but how good it felt, how right it felt – the harsh cold and the blistering heat, and his body falling apart and being put back together with each thrust. His body was shaking, shaking with sore muscles and with the chill, and with the force of Gabriel bearing down upon him.

“They’d cut him open, take out his heart. They’d raise it in dedication to the light that watched over them, which was later translated to being the sun.” Gabriel reached around and grasped Sam’s cock, tugging at it almost lazily, but the touch drove Sam crazy, made his twist his hips to meet every one of Gabriel’s thrusts, made him pant and whine. “I miss the old ways, sometimes,” Gabriel said from a distance. Sam was moving frantically now, his body burning from the inside and aching with a need he couldn’t put words to, something wonderful and horrible and base that was taking him over. 

“And it was a good life for my little sacrifices.” He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, jerking him upright, thrusting deep and hard inside him, jacking his cock with a methodical lack of sympathy and Sam was moaning and writhing, trying to get Gabriel deeper, trying to get him deep enough to fill up that aching hole inside him, trying to get Gabriel so far under his skin he’d never be able to get back out. “Gods are kind to those who pay tribute,” Gabriel whispered into Sam’s ear, his voice hoarse and dark and powerful. “Kind to their souls.” Then Gabriel but down on Sam’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and Sam was coming so hard that it hurt, so hard that he lost what little control he had left, howling and crying and being torn apart with how good it felt, how _complete_...

“You do this every solstice?” Sam asked, when he was clean and dry and dressed and warm.

“No,” Gabriel replied, pressing a mug of hot chocolate into his hands. “But I’m thinking I should.”


	10. They're both dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both dead, but not for long. Jimmy and Gabriel.

Jimmy woke up on Christmas day, in the middle of the desert, dripping wet. A shadow fell over him, and he stared up at an angel. The angel wore a trucker cap, and a canvas motorcycle jacket. Jimmy was used to being unimpressed with angels.

“I was dead,” he said after a long moment, the water saturating his clothes evaporating with little sizzles. He’d lost his overcoat somewhere along the way. Amelia was sure to... “Was I in Heaven?”

“Yup,” the angel said. “But I figured you wouldn’t mind seeing your family again, stretch your legs, all that stuff. I snagged you on my way over.” The angel offered Jimmy a hand, and he grasped it, getting pulled to his feet. He staggered a little, not used to standing under his own steam, and the angel steadied him. The angel smelled like snow, and blood, and peppermint chocolate. Jimmy was pretty sure he smelled like a lake.

“You’re bleeding,” Jimmy said.

“Yeah.” The angel inspected the wound at his front. “They weren’t keen on letting you go.” Jimmy opened his mouth to ask ‘who, specifically?’, but then he noticed the sheer volume of blood splattered over the angel’s clothes, and what looked like a thin tentacle caught jauntily on the brim of his cap. Jimmy was pretty confident that he didn’t really want to know the answer to that question.

“Where are we?” he asked instead, looking around. The desert seemed to stretch in all directions, an uneven but unbroken horizon. To their right a huge ball of light flamed in the sky; to their left, the landscape faded into shadow.

“We,” the angel said happily, “are in the land of the dead.” He grinned at Jimmy, and Jimmy had lost just enough of his self-preservation to find the smile infectious. “There’s only one way out,” the angel continued, stepping away from Jimmy and beckoning for him to follow. 

“Which way is that?” Jimmy asked, trailing after him.

A sword slid out of the angel’s sleeve and into his grip, his grin turned a little manic. “That would ruin the surprise,” he said.

All in all, Jimmy had done some pretty crazy things for angels. And now an angel was doing something crazy for him. The last of the water evaporated from Jimmy’s skin, and he and the angel headed towards the darkness.


	11. It's a fun mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a fun mistake, but all too familiar. Dean/Balthazar (past Dean/Gabriel, unrequited Balthazar/Castiel)

Balthazar had the annoying habit of whisking Dean away whenever he felt that Dean was getting too strung out. Balthazar had a preference for beaches and places with an open bar. Dean always protested, and always had to be won around (and usually ended up on the sand, with Balthazar straddling his hips, kissing him slowly). It was a distraction, it left the people he loved unguarded, it meant that jobs went unfinished. 

It was eerily similar to all of the times Gabriel had grabbed his arm and snapped him off to a strip club, or a bar with too much neon on the inside.

Balthazar also had the habit of leaving Dean presents when he felt they’d gone too long without a tryst. Satin underpants, edible body paint, a European gay porn magazine with a few of the more interesting pages dog eared and some relevant monster-lore tucked between the pages. And Dean always stuffed these things out of sight, right down at the bottom of his duffel bag because he was busy, because he was in the middle of a hunt, because he was travelling with his brother, because “Bal, shit Bal, it has to be quick.”

It was a painful reminder of the way Gabriel had used m&ms to spell out the name of a creature they were hunting, or had written dirty little intentions on small slips of paper that he’d mojo’d into the toes of Dean’s boots.

Balthazar showed his anger with large, tight gestures. With heavy sarcasm and cold looks. He would hiss, and be every bit as scathing as Dean deserved, and glare until Dean swallowed his pride and apologised. Until their bodies were rolling together with clothing torn off and thrown away, each of them clinging to the other with all their might.

Because with each argument Dean relived the fights he’d had with Gabriel, of the way he’d pushed him to stand up to his family.

It was something Dean had fallen into, this odd relationship with Balthazar. It was never meant to be a distraction, a replacement. But Balthazar was such a strong mirror of Gabriel at times. And there were moments - long, awkward moments when Balthazar and Castiel would lock eyes and Balthazar would stroke Dean’s arm and encourage his stubbornness – when Dean wondered if he was merely playing someone else’s role himself.


	12. An old story...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old story about a fallen angel and a new beginning. Loki (Gabriel) and Castiel.

There was a time when the trickster god Loki walked through the cities of men, judging them and punishing them as he saw fitted their crimes. And in the centre of a dark city he found an angel shivering in the gutter.

“Why do you cry?” Loki asked of the angel. “Why is your light so dim?”

“I have been cast out from Heaven,” the angel replied. 

“Why were you cast out?” Loki asked the angel.

“I went against my father’s plans,” the angel replied.

“But did you harm those you love?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” the angel replied. “I have slain those of my brothers who opposed me.”

“But did harm those you were sworn to protect?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” the angel replied. “I lied and manipulated the man I was sworn to protect.”

“But were your actions righteous?” Loki asked.

The angel was silent for a time. “I thought they were,” it replied at last. “But I have done things that I should not, and now I am punished for it.”

Loki wrapped his arm around the angel, and though he looked like a man his coat was made of fur and it kept the angel warm as a wolf-mother keeps her cubs warm in the snow. “There is nothing more regrettable than hurting those we love,” he told the angel. “And there is nothing harder than regaining trust when it has been lost. But these things can be done.”

“It does not matter,” the angel replied. “I am cast out from Heaven, my light is dying. I am no longer an angel and never will be again. Soon I shall be nothing at all and my sacrifices shall have been for nought.”

Loki pulled the angel close, and soothed him with the old tongue of the gods and the angels. When the angel had stilled his crying Loki said to him, “You may never be an angel again, but you are righteous. Your light may be dying but I sense a fire within you. You have lost what you are, but not your purpose. You shall come with me, little star, and we will carve you into something new.”

And Loki and the angel raised themselves up from the gutter, and then up above the city of men, and then up higher and higher still, until they were among the stars. For that is the place where angels die and the small gods are born.


	13. Almost exactly like birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels are a lot like birds - stubborn, showy, and very cranky if you upset their nest. John Winchester and Gabriel.

From what John could figure out, birds had learned their habits from angels. Angels were hard to find simply because no hunter had ever found a nest before. It could be packed away anywhere – in an apartment, an office, somewhere in the wild. It could also, John had discovered, be packed into a car. He’d picked up what was clearly some kind of hoodoo bundle of things – twigs, feathers, twine, a peppermint cream, part of a lizard – and stowed it in a hex box for safe keeping until he had the time to diffuse it. He’d put the hex box in the back his truck and chained it down, turned away to grab his duffel, and when he’d turned back a man had been perched on the roof of the cab, glaring down at him with a look fit to kill.

John knew instantly that this man wasn’t human. Nothing with eyes like that, with the prickling pressure of taking up more space than the eye could see, was ever human. It had taken as while for him to whittle the list of possibilities down to an angel, even once the wings came out. That was definitely birdlike, the way they’d been spread out, taking up as much room as possible. A peacock show if John ever saw one. He had plenty of time to try every identifier and then some, since the man showed no interest in moving, but no real inclination to attack.

“If you’re an angel,” John said at last, “who the hell are you?” One of the few pieces of angel lore that John knew had to do with their names. If you knew an angel’s name, you could call on it for the rest of your life. The angel remained tight-lipped on that matter.

“Give it back,” it said over and over. John was canny enough to realise that once the angel got what it wanted, there’d be no guarantee it would continue to play nice. 

“Is there a reason you can’t take it back?” John asked.

The angel pulled a sword from nowhere, and extended its arm until the tip of the blade pressed against John’s throat. “I would like to,” it said. “But there are plans for you, Winchester, and plans for me.”

John stared the angel down, unwavering as it stared back. “Well,” he said at last, “I guess neither of these plans involve you getting your nest back,” he said. He threw his duffel onto the small backseat of his truck. “You know anything about a demon with yellow eyes?” he asked.

The angel rolled its eyes, an incredibly human gesture. “I’m not going to help you,” it said. 

“Then you’re not getting your nest back,” John replied easily. He wondered what the angel would do if he pulled the nest apart piece by piece. He wondered if the mess of magic and string was flammable. He was pretty certain he could coerce the angel’s help eventually. John hauled himself up into the cab of the truck, and started the engine. He drove off without a backwards glance. He’d see how well angels could hang on to the roof of a truck, and then how well they could track.

When John got to the motel, he pulled up close to his door, and looked around carefully in case the angel was ready to spring an ambush. He needn’t have worried. The angel was curled protectively around the hex box, and every box and duffel John had stowed in the back was shredded to pieces and tied together with a mess of string and candy wrappers.

“You are not nesting in my truck,” John said flatly.

The angel gave him a defiant look, and hugged the hex box closer to its chest. The two exchanged glares for a long moment, but John’s body hurt, and his ribs needed binding, and he was pretty certain that Dean had left him yet another voice mail.

“You can stay out here tonight,” he said at last. “But if you lay any eggs, they’re omelettes, you hear?” The angel flipped him off, and John turned and headed inside. He smirked to himself during the night, when he heard the first drops of rain turn into a thundering storm. 

The smile fell from his face in the morning, however, when he saw that the expanded nest had merely been moved inside the cab of the truck, and apparently now included the newspaper John had paid to be dropped by his door and the wrappings of about twenty breakfast muffins. John rapped his knuckles on the driver’s side window, and the angel folded down one corner of the paper to give him a petulant look. It reminded him oddly of Sam.

“Okay,” John said, eyeing off his paper. “Let’s talk compromise.”


	14. Some things are very hard to kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's not dead, exactly. He's not really anything. Coda to 'Hammer of the Gods'.

Gabriel will never be completely human, Castiel tells them as Sam carries the body out of the hotel. He is not completely anything. He cannot completely die because too many gods have a hold on him, he cannot be truly alive because he has died so many times. 

“Sounds pretty convenient to me,” Dean says as he hauls the back door of the Impala open. Gabriel had been sitting there only hours before, a scared little creature doing its best to hide.

“It’s not how it should be,” Castiel replies. He won’t touch Gabriel’s body, was reluctant to have anything to do with the archangel when he had been alive.

“Yeah, well, we shouldn’t be fighting the apocalypse but that’s still happening,” Dean throws back. Castiel presses his lips into a thin line, and refuses to respond.

“Will he wake up?” Sam asks, trying to fold the body neatly onto the back seat. The expression on Gabriel’s face hasn’t changed, is still oddly peaceful.

“Eventually,” Castiel replies. “But he will be even less of himself.”

“Good,” Dean says firmly. “If he’s less of an angel he might be more willing to play ball.”

“Or more willing to suck the life from your bones,” Castiel replies flatly.

They pause, Sam and Dean, and stare at the small shape laid out across the back seat, his hips twisting as his legs hang over the side and onto the floor. “He has been a god,” Castiel tells them, “and a devil. And everything in between. Tonight has shown that he is not very good at being an angel.”

“You’ll be around to show him the ropes,” Dean replies with a small laugh. Castiel stares at him for a long while, and then disappears with a tired flutter of wings.

Sam and Dean swing themselves into the Impala. They have half a tank of gas, a dead angel on the back seat, and a lot of road to cover before dawn.


	15. Abduction or vacation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes friends just need to take friends to the beach. Sam, Castiel, and Gabriel. Gen.

Sam is running on too many days without sleep when Gabriel puts a hand to Sam’s elbow.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go to the beach. See if we can catch anyone peeing in the ocean.” Sam opens his mouth to protest, but there’s the feeling of his navel being jerked up and into his throat, and he’s standing on a hot road with palm trees towering above him, their fronds swaying noisily in the breeze. Sam is ready to tear Gabriel a new one for ripping him away from Dean – who is, no doubt, throwing a fit – but the ocean air smells good and the sunlight is warm. He spots a familiar tan shape hunched on a bench on the boardwalk, and follows Gabriel over.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel says, and then he holds out a large paper cup. “I got you a drink.”

“Uh, thanks.” Sam takes the cup, and takes a long sip. It’s orange soda, a little warm and sickly sweet.

“Why’d you get him a warm drink?” Gabriel asks, pressing Sam down onto the bench next to Cas and then plonking on Sam’s other side.

“I asked for no ice,” Castiel explained. “You said that you get more without ice.”

“Ice is what makes the drink cold,” Gabriel says impatiently. “Which is the defining feature of a _cold_ drink.”

“I had assumed that being a drink was an equally defining feature,” Castiel replies, a little frostily. “But if I can’t be trusted with this task in future, so be it.”

“Looks like you’re buying us lunch,” Sam says to Gabriel before taking another sip of the lukewarm drink.

“Nah,” Gabriel replies with a wave of his hand. “I bet I can train him to buy hotdogs by then.”

They sit on the boardwalk, soaking up the sun. Gabriel strips down to his singlet, and after some goading Sam shucks his shirt off and leans his head back. Castiel refuses to take his overcoat off, and glares moodily at the people ogling his friends. Sam suspects that their guard-angel would be more intimidating if Gabriel weren’t giving him tips in the loudest stage whisper Sam has ever heard.

“I’m hungry,” Sam says at last, his drink long gone and his skin starting to tan.

“Let’s see if we can convince a pizza place to deliver to a bench,” Gabriel replies as he digs his mobile phone out of a deep pocket. “What do you guys want?”

“Vegetarian, no cheese,” Sam says as he stretches his arms over his head.

“Cheese, no vegetables,” Castiel contributes, trying to kick some sand off his shoes.

“Screw both of you,” Gabriel replies. “Hello? I’ll have the Mexican meat lovers, extra everything. And I’ll tip you twenty bucks if you bring us a bottle of Mountain Dew so cold it has ice chips in it.”

“So what are we doing here?” Sam asks, pulling his shirt back on. “What’s the deal?” Gabriel takes a moment to peer over the top of his sunglasses at some ladies playing volleyball, and Castiel stares out at the ocean like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever encountered. “Come on, what? Is there some apocalypse thing happening here? Did you snatch me away from Lucifer?”

“I’ve never experienced the ocean,” Castiel says at last. “Not as a human.”

“I’ve never won a game of skeeball without cheating,” Gabriel contributes.

“That’s it?” Sam asks, feeling a little cheated. “You guys just wanted a day off?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s the end of the world,” he says in his usual, dull voice. “If there were ever a time to take a holiday...”

Sam sinks back against the worn wood of the bench. “So this is it, huh? Our last hurrah.”

“Nope,” Gabriel says, standing up and waving frantically. “This is our lunch arriving.”

The pizza tastes wonderful, despite being loaded with bacon and grease. In fact, those are Castiel’s two favourite parts. And while Sam does scold Gabriel for the squealing pig noises he makes as Cas gorges himself on pizza, he can’t help but laugh at the same time. Sam waits until Gabriel is guzzling from the bottle of Mountain Dew before snorting at him, and Gabriel laughs so hard soda comes out his nose, which has Castiel laughing until he chokes on cheese crust.

“There’s one piece of pizza left,” Castiel says when the three of them have calmed down enough to stop attracting stares from innocent bystanders.

Sam tastes some stray sauce on his lip, and eyes the last piece speculatively. “I’ll split it with you.”

“What am I meant to do,” Gabriel asks, making a lunge for the pizza, “lick the box?”

Castiel holds the box out of Gabriel’s reach, and a seagull swoops down and snatches the last piece of pizza, sagging under the weight of it and immediately attracting the attention of a million other seagulls keen to scavenge.

“It’s probably for the best,” Sam says, as they watch the birds squawking and bickering.

“Maybe,” Gabriel admits, giving the birds the evil eye from behind mirrored lenses, “but I’ll never forgive them.”

“There will be other pizzas,” Castiel says diplomatically.

Sam thinks that he’s right. There will be other pizzas. And there will be other days on the beach, other times with the three of them being idiots and not saving the world. There will be all of the time in the world.

He wakes up in his bed, warm and content and rested. Sam passes it off as a dream until he goes into the bathroom and sees the sunburn peeling across his nose. When he steps back out into the motel room, he sees Castiel asleep at the tiny table. There is sand stuck to his shoes, and an empty bottle of Mountain Dew clasped in his arms.

Gabriel, Sam is sure, is still on the boardwalk, still trying to win that game of skeeball. Sam wishes him luck, and crawls back into bed.


End file.
